


his dying breath has brought me life

by Villinye (AslansCompass)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Regeneration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/Villinye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River picks just the right time to leave the Library.  Another take on Eleven's regeneration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his dying breath has brought me life

 

"Ready?"

"Ready," River nods. This is it. Phase one. Complete data transfer, non-reversible. If her coordinates are wrong, if the transfer is interrupted–-

Well.

Cal activates the sequence.

 _Flames in a New York alley. The labyrinth of Alpha Mextraxis. Wine under the Leadsworth stars._ It's all in the wrong order, faces cut and pasted in a childish collage, shuffled like a deck of cards.

 ** _Mine._** The word writes itself in golden spirals across the sky. No past, no future, nothing but a rolling sea of moments. The heart of the TARDIS, she who was old thing and sexy and idris and a bad, bad wolf. All that was and will be.

Home. She breathes, or pretends to. Where is he?

An old console room, with wood panels and stained glass like a village chapel, that's him. Or the him she wants, out of all the versions of him running around the interior like stereo tracks played in unison. He lies on the floor, curled around the central column like a cat.

"Hel–" The second syllable is cut off in a rush of heat and light. _Regenerating–but he can't–I thought,_ the words rush over and around and through her, energy seeping into her data matrix like water. Faces flicker and change: bright-eyed,curly-haired, demanding, wizardly, broken, puppy-eyed, floppy-haired, even smirking politician. Weight settles on her like a lead apron. She staggers forward, collapsing on the control panel.

"River? But what are you–" He licks his lips. "Well, memorable first words, at least. I've been asking that question for centuries anyway, might as well get it out of the way."

She pulls herself up. "You didn't think I'd just sit around, did you?"

"Never," he holds out his hand, examining each new line and crevice. "I just…you're solid."

River smirks. "Never known you to be one for dirty jokes."

"No, I mean it…you're not a ghost, or a projection, or whatever you planned when you transferred here. You're alive, in the flesh."

She runs her fingers over her arms. Even in the Library, she hadn't been entirely vaporous, but no computer could replicate those tiny feelings, the prickling numbness after sitting too long or the itch when skin begins to crack from winter's chill. "Oh, you beautiful girl." She whispers. "All that energy. Tucked away and waiting for an emergency."

"It's not fair. You get to keep yours." He smiles. "To be fair, it's hard to imagine you improving."

"Is that a challenge?"

 

 


End file.
